Screaming Color
eighteen
april brings dark clouds and rain showers, and, in the moments in between, spots of sunlight, bright and warm and unlasting. cole links hands with niall and together they weather ten straight days of rain. they zig-zag across the city to see the houses where poets used to live and the buildings where major declarations were signed. cole feels it all at once, the past and the present and the golden future, whirling around her like waves of electricity. and then she grows exhausted of the rain.
so they take to niall’s bed, and to all of the coursework they’ve been avoiding since the middle of march. they take to lazy sunday mornings and long afternoons that stretch into quiet evenings. cole thinks maybe she could live the rest of forever like this.
early one evening, after hours and hours spent reading about the french revolution, cole comes back from the loo, twisting a piece of hair around her finger and wondering what color socks to wear tomorrow, to find niall speaking to her brother on the phone.
“is that right, mate?” niall is saying, one hand holding cole’s phone–she can tell it’s hers from the glimpses of her pink case peeking out between his fingers–to his ear and the other behind his head as he reclines on his bed. “what does your da think?”
he looks up as cole comes in and points at the phone with his free hand, mouthing, “alfie,” as if cole’s brother is someone that he talks to everyday.
cole hasn’t spoken to her brother in weeks, but she’s been meaning to call. alfie’s birthday is coming up, which means another occasion for mum not to send a card. she holds out her hand. "give me my mobile.“
"it was nice talking to ya, but cole’s here,” niall says. there’s a pause and then he laughs, and then, “yeah, that sounds good.”
he grins at cole as he passes her mobile over, and she sticks her tongue out in return. when she finally gets the phone up to her ear, the first thing her brother says is, “i like your boyfriend.”
“what?” boyfriend. that’s not a word she and niall have used. it’s definitely a word that cole has thought about, repeated to herself in her mind and arranged it into sentences: “my boyfriend studies literature” and “my boyfriend’s meeting me after class” but they’ve never talked about it. they’ve never spoken it aloud and made it real. and mostly cole’s been fine with that.
“niall? your boyfriend? that’s what he said anyway. he’s funny. you should bring him home so i can meet him.”
“oh, sure,” cole says, raising an eyebrow at niall, who shrugs mischievously. alfie’s never been much of a schemer, but who knows what kind of teenager he’ll turn into with niall setting an example. “what were you telling niall about, alf?”
“oh, just that rosie’s coming over to hang out after school tomorrow.” alfie says, “just,” but cole can hear the excitement in his voice.
“rosie?” cole repeats, because despite alfie’s excitement, she doesn’t remember who rosie is. she can never remember alfie’s friends’ names – she usually just assumes all the boys are named jacob and the girls eleanor.
“yeah, rosie, from school? i told you about her, ‘member?”
“oh yeah, of course,” cole says, though she doesn’t. “rosie, right.”
“she plays chess too,” alfie says. “we’re gonna play on the set santa gave me for christmas.
“that’s awesome, alf.” cole’s eyes drift over to niall, who has a book open in his lap, but is looking at cole instead. niall, your boyfriend, alfie’d said, and the words echo in cole’s mind repeatedly. she crawls across the bed and sits down next to niall, leaning back into his chest.
“she’s much better at it than you are,” alfie says, but cole only half hears him, as niall’s hand has pushed the hair off of her neck to make room for his lips.
when she feels niall’s tongue on her skin, she knows it’s time to end the phone call. “i’m sure she is, alf,” she says, reaching up to push niall’s head away. he laughs into her palm, tickling her. “listen, how about i call you at the weekend? and you can tell me all about how it went?”
“sure, coley,” alfie says, none the wiser. “love you.”
“love you too,” cole says. she barely has time to hang up before niall pulls the phone out of her hand and tosses it to the other end of the bed. then niall’s on top of her, knees on either side of her hips, before she can take a breath.
“i was on the phone,” she says, but the annoyance lasts all of a second, because niall’s eyes are big and blue like the summer sky and right in front of her.
“yeah, but you’re not anymore,” niall says, grinning widely. cole wraps her hands around his neck and pulls her to him, and she doesn’t break the kiss until the memory of what alfie said, niall, your boyfriend, resurfaces. the words scratch and itch at her until she pushes niall back with a hand on his chest and opens her eyes to look into his.
“what’s wrong?” he asks, eyes wide, a little bit breathless. he looks so soft, so warm, that cole wants to– but no. niall, your boyfriend.
“nothing, cole says. “you told my brother that you’re my boyfriend?”
niall’s grin fades a little bit, which cole feels instantly as a wash of cold inside her chest, right around her heart. he worries at his lower lip, and cole reaches out to touch him, to reassure him.
“was that wrong?” he asks. “i–”
“it wasn’t wrong,” she says. she runs her hand through the softness of his hair to let him know that it’s okay. “but why didn’t you tell me first?
“oh!” niall’s eyes widen. cole realizes that he hadn’t even thought of it. “i thought you already knew.”
now it’s cole’s turn to frown. she thinks back through the last few weeks – did they talk about it when she was half-asleep, maybe, or too tipsy to remember. “but we never talked about it.”
“i didn’t think we needed to.” he catches cole’s hand in his hair and gathers it between both of his own. “but we can talk about it right now if you want.”
cole remembers niall’s story about the leprechaun boy and the girl with the freckles and big green eyes, and she takes niall’s words and stores them in a box along with other things that she’s grateful for. niall loves words, but sometimes he has trouble saying them out loud, but cole thinks that doesn’t matter. she loves him, maybe loves him, anyway.
“we just did,” she says, and right before she kisses him again, she says it out loud, to make it real. “you’re my boyfriend.”
so they take to niall’s bed, and to all of the coursework they’ve been avoiding since the middle of march. they take to lazy sunday mornings and long afternoons that stretch into quiet evenings. cole thinks maybe she could live the rest of forever like this.
early one evening, after hours and hours spent reading about the french revolution, cole comes back from the loo, twisting a piece of hair around her finger and wondering what color socks to wear tomorrow, to find niall speaking to her brother on the phone.
“is that right, mate?” niall is saying, one hand holding cole’s phone–she can tell it’s hers from the glimpses of her pink case peeking out between his fingers–to his ear and the other behind his head as he reclines on his bed. “what does your da think?”
he looks up as cole comes in and points at the phone with his free hand, mouthing, “alfie,” as if cole’s brother is someone that he talks to everyday.
cole hasn’t spoken to her brother in weeks, but she’s been meaning to call. alfie’s birthday is coming up, which means another occasion for mum not to send a card. she holds out her hand. "give me my mobile.“
"it was nice talking to ya, but cole’s here,” niall says. there’s a pause and then he laughs, and then, “yeah, that sounds good.”
he grins at cole as he passes her mobile over, and she sticks her tongue out in return. when she finally gets the phone up to her ear, the first thing her brother says is, “i like your boyfriend.”
“what?” boyfriend. that’s not a word she and niall have used. it’s definitely a word that cole has thought about, repeated to herself in her mind and arranged it into sentences: “my boyfriend studies literature” and “my boyfriend’s meeting me after class” but they’ve never talked about it. they’ve never spoken it aloud and made it real. and mostly cole’s been fine with that.
“niall? your boyfriend? that’s what he said anyway. he’s funny. you should bring him home so i can meet him.”
“oh, sure,” cole says, raising an eyebrow at niall, who shrugs mischievously. alfie’s never been much of a schemer, but who knows what kind of teenager he’ll turn into with niall setting an example. “what were you telling niall about, alf?”
“oh, just that rosie’s coming over to hang out after school tomorrow.” alfie says, “just,” but cole can hear the excitement in his voice.
“rosie?” cole repeats, because despite alfie’s excitement, she doesn’t remember who rosie is. she can never remember alfie’s friends’ names – she usually just assumes all the boys are named jacob and the girls eleanor.
“yeah, rosie, from school? i told you about her, ‘member?”
“oh yeah, of course,” cole says, though she doesn’t. “rosie, right.”
“she plays chess too,” alfie says. “we’re gonna play on the set santa gave me for christmas.
“that’s awesome, alf.” cole’s eyes drift over to niall, who has a book open in his lap, but is looking at cole instead. niall, your boyfriend, alfie’d said, and the words echo in cole’s mind repeatedly. she crawls across the bed and sits down next to niall, leaning back into his chest.
“she’s much better at it than you are,” alfie says, but cole only half hears him, as niall’s hand has pushed the hair off of her neck to make room for his lips.
when she feels niall’s tongue on her skin, she knows it’s time to end the phone call. “i’m sure she is, alf,” she says, reaching up to push niall’s head away. he laughs into her palm, tickling her. “listen, how about i call you at the weekend? and you can tell me all about how it went?”
“sure, coley,” alfie says, none the wiser. “love you.”
“love you too,” cole says. she barely has time to hang up before niall pulls the phone out of her hand and tosses it to the other end of the bed. then niall’s on top of her, knees on either side of her hips, before she can take a breath.
“i was on the phone,” she says, but the annoyance lasts all of a second, because niall’s eyes are big and blue like the summer sky and right in front of her.
“yeah, but you’re not anymore,” niall says, grinning widely. cole wraps her hands around his neck and pulls her to him, and she doesn’t break the kiss until the memory of what alfie said, niall, your boyfriend, resurfaces. the words scratch and itch at her until she pushes niall back with a hand on his chest and opens her eyes to look into his.
“what’s wrong?” he asks, eyes wide, a little bit breathless. he looks so soft, so warm, that cole wants to– but no. niall, your boyfriend.
“nothing, cole says. “you told my brother that you’re my boyfriend?”
niall’s grin fades a little bit, which cole feels instantly as a wash of cold inside her chest, right around her heart. he worries at his lower lip, and cole reaches out to touch him, to reassure him.
“was that wrong?” he asks. “i–”
“it wasn’t wrong,” she says. she runs her hand through the softness of his hair to let him know that it’s okay. “but why didn’t you tell me first?
“oh!” niall’s eyes widen. cole realizes that he hadn’t even thought of it. “i thought you already knew.”
now it’s cole’s turn to frown. she thinks back through the last few weeks – did they talk about it when she was half-asleep, maybe, or too tipsy to remember. “but we never talked about it.”
“i didn’t think we needed to.” he catches cole’s hand in his hair and gathers it between both of his own. “but we can talk about it right now if you want.”
cole remembers niall’s story about the leprechaun boy and the girl with the freckles and big green eyes, and she takes niall’s words and stores them in a box along with other things that she’s grateful for. niall loves words, but sometimes he has trouble saying them out loud, but cole thinks that doesn’t matter. she loves him, maybe loves him, anyway.
“we just did,” she says, and right before she kisses him again, she says it out loud, to make it real. “you’re my boyfriend.”